


Twenty Years of Serenity

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [289]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Party Like It's 1999, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: Our lads celebrate Quinn's 20th anniversary at Luke University.





	Twenty Years of Serenity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta Helen   
> Laura McEwan for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3   
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> Written for [Party Like It's 1999](https://quiobi-lover.tumblr.com/tagged/party-like-it%27s-1999).

"Happy Anniversary, ma gradh!"

"Go raibh maith agat, (Thank you) laddie."

Ian clinked his flute with Quinn, who sat across from him at the table on Friday, May 17th. Amid the hustle and bustle of the dinner hour, the two of them were in their own private oasis of serenity. Since it was a special occasion, they'd ordered a split of Cristal Champagne. They were eating at The Skyhawks' Nest, the restaurant in the atrium of the Luke Convention Center, to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Quinn's career at Luke University.

Twenty years! Years when Quinn found his vocation of teaching; when he found his avocation of aikido; when he found the love of his life; when he found and rescued two little puppies who completed their family; when he found his place in the galaxy.

They had decided to make a weekend of it, what with the banquet to commemorate the occasion on Saturday night for all of the professors who'd reached this milestone. Unlike Quinn's 10th anniversary, the administration had decided to hold the event after the academic year was over so everyone could properly enjoy it, without the distractions of lectures and exams.

They'd attended the graduation ceremony on the lawn in front of Wookley Center that afternoon, resplendent in their brown and cream robes, along with their Williamsburg boots, still going strong. Their favorite part came later, when a big, gentle hand played with Ian's tassel – braiding it fancifully – in a private moment at their office after the ceremony was over.

Both of them had enjoyed the 10-minute walk to the convention center, especially in the beautiful spring weather. Quinn thought he recognized his friend the hedgehog darting through the grass by the river as they strolled along. He found himself whistling a little bit off-key to a lark's song and smiled as Ian joined him. Their robes flapped against their slacks as the breeze danced with them in a way they were familiar with every Saturday afternoon from the fluttering of their cloaks against their gi at the Academy of the Light, their neighborhood dojo.

They'd taken off the robes as soon as they checked into their room on the second floor of the convention center. And with them their feeling of being on duty.

So here they were at the Nest, relaxing into a fun-filled weekend together.

"Twenty years," marveled Quinn. "It's amazing – I just can't believe it."

Ian nodded. "I know. I was still at Georgeton when you started teaching here, and it only seems like a few years since I graduated."

Quinn's eyes crinkled with love. "That's because you look like it's only been a few years since you graduated, my little lad."

An answering blush delicately painting Ian's cheeks was barely detectable in the candlelight – and only to his husband's Force-enhanced vision – enchanting Quinn all the more. "Thank you, ma love."

Blaise, their waiter, was a graduate student in the Philosophy Department. He came by to take their order from the seasonal menu. They'd studied the choices as if they were reading a newly discovered manuscript by E.M. Forster. Ian settled on crabmeat au gratin with garlic-coated green beans, while Quinn chose river trout in an orange glaze with shredded coconut and carrots. Honoring their hobbit heritage, they had to have mushroom soup with a splash of Chardonnay to start. They decided to get two pieces of checkerboard cake when Blaise told them it had been made that morning by Maran, a legendary local baker.

Then they sat back, relaxing with their champagne, with Ian gazing at his husband in adoration.

Quinn had already gotten a gift from Chancellor Vellum – a silver tie clip that formed the number 20, which glinted in the glow of the candle between them. It reminded Ian of how much good his husband had done in the past twenty years – teaching and mentoring thousands of students; guiding doctoral candidates to their Ph.D.s; counseling members of Luke-Loves – a true Force for the Light.

The smile Quinn gave him was warmer than the candlelight reflected in blue eyes. "Look at you, lad – it's even harder to believe you've been teaching with me for the past 15 years."

Ian grinned. "Best thing I ever did was coming here to be with you."

"Not marrying me?" Quinn asked in a gentle tease.

"It's a package deal," Ian said, then snorted out a laugh.

Blaise returned with focaccia bread drizzled with olive oil and their bowls of mushroom soup, topping out their glasses of water while he was there. The soup was encrusted with gruyere cheese and sprinkled with basil.

Ian could tell that it was a little bit o' hobbit heaven when he saw Quinn's face after his first spoonful.

"Bilbo would be proud to serve this to his guests," Quinn said with gusto.

"Even the unexpected ones?" It was Ian's turn to tease.

"Especially those," Quinn said, "and especially if Gandalf is there."

Ian was not disappointed when he tasted it, even after Quinn's lofty praise. A garlic-herb crouton on his spoon made it all the more delicious. They ate their soup for the next little while.

"What would you like to do after dinner?" Quinn asked.

"Let's go out on the terrace," Ian said. "It's a beautiful night for stargazing."

The terrace was shared by the Nest and the ballroom, and it commanded a magnificent view of the Luke University campus, with the filigree of lights echoing the stars above.

"Sounds grand." Quinn took a sip of water.

Their entrees came and so did their famous horse-trading. Crabmeat and trout changed plates at high speed, along with green beans and carrots. Both of them ended up with the best blend of each dish. Their conversation paused even longer this time, as they took almost half an hour to savor their meal.

Spearing an errant shred of coconut, Quinn said, "Now that was a proper feast."

Ian said, "We'll be lucky if the banquet tomorrow night is as delectable as this."

"Well, there's a pre-set menu for everyone, so it's a toss-up," Quinn answered.

Blaise heard Quinn's comment as he was coming to the table with their checkerboard cake. "I'll be working Saturday, as well. Think you'll enjoy it," he said with a wink.

"Any chance of a preview?" asked Ian hopefully.

Blaise chuckled. "Let's just say I've heard about an order of Cornish Game Hens...." He was delighted when he made them smile.

The checkerboard cake, with dark chocolate and vanilla squares, was as scrumptious as it looked. Both of them did their best to make it last, but even Quinn had to throw in the fork eventually. They put the meal on their hotel tab, leaving Blaise a generous tip, and used the facilities before heading outdoors.

When they strolled onto the terrace, they instantly saw the blue and green safety lights of Taton Hall shining like beacons in the night. No one else was outside at this hour since it was almost 11 p.m. They savored the natural air conditioning of a spring night in Upstate New York, where it was 52 degrees Fahrenheit.

Quinn stood behind Ian, wrapping him in his arms. He pointed to Polaris and angled Ian's head to see it.

"You've always been my North Star, Master," Ian whispered, as he savored Quinn's touch to his chin.

"Ah, darlin', you're not a Padawan anymore." Quinn kissed breeze-mussed copper spikes. "You earned your own Master's Degree back in 1999, just before coming to Georgeton for your doctorate."

Ian turned within Quinn's arms to face him. "You'll always be my Master, though."

They kissed under the stars for an endless Moment.

* * *

By the time they ambled back to their room, both of them were ready for bed. They took turns using the facilities, and Quinn went back to get a towel to protect the fitted sheet, in case Ian was not too tired for lovemaking tonight. After completely undressing – which they liked to do in spring and summer – they slid into the king-sized bed, with Quinn taking the left side as usual.

Quinn got on his elbow to stroke Ian's cheek. "Up for a bit o' fun, laddie?"

Eyes bright in spite of the long day, Ian said, "Let's go for it," so Quinn wasted no time in pulling Ian on top of him and giving him a chocolate-flavored kiss.

Frottage was a particular favorite of both men, especially with Ian's gymnastic hip action. Now he was on top of his favorite perch and took advantage of it. He matched Quinn angle to angle and curve to curve. And then he began to *move*. 

Quinn couldn't withstand the onslaught for long – he thought Ian must be part-Besalisk because he had to have four hands with the amount of caresses he was giving Quinn. Grinding into Quinn's cock, he kissed every bit of skin he could reach that he wasn't petting with his hands.

Ian relished each grunt he got from Quinn, every one audible with his Force-enhanced hearing despite his own groans. "Qui!" His hips impossibly picked up speed, and he dove for Quinn's mouth to kiss him as the first spurts began. An answering flood of cream bathed his stomach, groin, and thighs.

"Love you, oh, love you," Quinn said, voice gone to gravel from his shouts.

"Mo ghaol," (My love) Ian whispered, snuggling closer still.

They lay there – smiling into each other's eyes – until sweat and semen cooled on their skin, then Ian reluctantly rolled off. Quinn cleaned them with a dry corner of the towel, threw it on the floor, and pulled up the covers.

Ian nestled into his arms for a good night's sleep.

* * *

They decided to ask for a room-service breakfast – banana-yogurt shakes, warm ciabatta rolls with butter and apricot jam, along with their morning cappuccinos. While they were waiting, they performed a joint seasonal kata, The Dance of the Cherry Blossoms, which they ended with their favorite pose – a kiss. The food came a few minutes later when they were ravenous after their aikido session.

The men ate at the little table by the window, where they could see the campus spread out in front of them. They chatted between bites, revelling in the lazy Saturday morning.

"When I first came here back in 1999, there were only 50 professors who made up the entire faculty of the English Department, Quinn said. "Two secretaries and a few T.A.s rounded out the staff."

Ian whistled. "Wow! Today we have over one hundred professors, five secretaries, and I've lost count of the T.A.s."

"What a difference twenty years make," said Quinn with satisfaction. "Growth, change, progress – now we're truly thriving."

After finishing breakfast down to the last crumb, Quinn washed up to get their books out of his duffel bag. They were rereading 'The Alexandria Quartet' by Lawrence Durrell, with Ian midway through 'Justine' and Quinn 'Mountolive'. Far away in Egypt for the next hour, they surfaced to stretch their arms and legs.

"In the mood for a swim?" Ian hinted.

"Good idea," said Quinn indulgently.

They took a shower, got into their aqua shoes and trunks – forest green for Quinn; cobalt blue for Ian – and headed for the indoor pool on the first floor. Snagging a couple of towels from the pile by the loungers, they claimed two recliners for themselves. Then they jumped into the deep end of the pool. There were only seven other swimmers there that morning, so the men had a lot of room to swim laps and play.

First, they raced each other using the Australian crawl, with Quinn winning the tie-breaking fifth lap. His wingspan and the length of his legs made him hard to beat. But Ian came back to win the breaststroke competition, years of racing at summer camp paying off for him.

Then they relaxed with the backfloat for a little while, gazing at the mosaic ceiling with its depiction of beautiful tropical fish. Quinn drifted into a reverie on Rip Van Winkle, for whom twenty years had passed in a dream, while Ian began a meditation on enduring love.

When they left the pool, they rinsed under the shower by the steps, then dried with the towels on their loungers and left them in the basket by the door. They took the elevator to their room and dressed in Skyhawks t-shirts and shorts for lunch. Ian suggested eating a light meal at the coffee shop, Latte Luke's, since they had the banquet to look forward to at six o'clock that evening.

It was near the gardens of the convention center and reminded them a bit of Rex's Diner with its laidback vibe.

They took advantage of the specialty of the house and ordered lattes with their meal. Ian got a roast-beef sandwich on a pumpernickel roll with a cinnamon latte, and Quinn had a chicken-salad club sandwich with a hazelnut latte.

"What's your pleasure this afternoon, me boyo?" Quinn asked after a sip of his drink.

"We haven't had time for a proper game of Scrabble in weeks," Ian said. "How 'bout it?"

Quinn chuckled. "Ah, I see our swimming races weren't enough to satisfy your competitive spirit."

"Nah," said Ian jauntily, "Competition is the spice of life."

"You're certainly the spice of mine," Quinn said in a low voice, pitched just for Jedi ears.

Ian's grin grew brighter than the afternoon sunlight.

They finished their lunch and put it on their hotel tab. Then they headed for their room so they could start their Scrabble game. Ian fished it out of his duffel bag, smiling when he noticed that the travel set was so well-used that some of the letters had partly worn off. Quinn won their lexical duel, dazzling Ian with words like 'jonquil' and 'parquet', the latter of which reminded Ian of their dancing tonight.

When Ian started to drum his sneakers on the carpet, Quinn knew it was time for a walk. They used the facilities, then went out into a beautiful May afternoon. The two of them strolled along the river path, heading towards the Marine Sciences building. It was blazingly sunny by now, and they were glad they wore t-shirts and shorts.

After twenty-two minutes of walking, they sat on a bench by the Calaman River, relaxing in the shade of an oak tree. The blue-green of the river was no match for the color of Ian's eyes, or so Quinn thought. He casually slung his arm over Ian's shoulders despite the occasional jogger passing by.

Quinn checked his Aldera watch. "We'd best head back soon. By the time we reach the hotel, we'll only have about half an hour before the banquet."

Ian hummed in answer, his head resting on Quinn's chest.

After a couple of minutes, they got up and walked back to the convention center. Quinn let his herven use the shower first, reading by the window until Ian was done with his grooming. While Ian dressed in his tux, Quinn did his own ablutions. When both of them were dressed to the 1999s, they tied for each other the green and blue tartan bowties they'd first used on their wedding day in 2005 at Windover, Massachusetts. The little shamrock and clover made whimsical finishing touches on their lapels.

A kiss at the door – just because – and they set out for the ballroom. They were pleasantly surprised to see so many of their mathematician acquaintances from Quinn's 10th anniversary party at their table – Professor Louis Bertrand and his wife Avril were on their left; Professor Elsa Riegert and her husband Josef sat to the right. Quinn missed Professor Roberto Torrijos and his wife Mariel, but Louis told him they were at Princeton now.

All of them started talking as if a decade had not passed since their last celebration. Louis still had a rapier wit, as did Avril, so Quinn enjoyed his verbal sparring with both of them, while Ian chatted with Elsa and Josef.

Blaise was their waiter again, and he gave a wink to Ian and Quinn, so they knew the Cornish Game Hen was probably on the menu. He filled their water glasses and brought over a basket of sourdough rolls and herbed butter. After he'd done the same for the tables around them, he came back with the first course – a salad of baby greens with Champagne vinaigrette dressing.

Some other old friends were there as well – Dan Figrino and the Mossley Band were already playing 'Fly Me to the Moon'. Quinn and Ian headed for the dance floor, waving to Dan as they started to box-step.

"Enjoying yourself, little lad?" Quinn rumbled.

"Oh, yeah," said Ian, adding an extra spring to his step as he moved across the parquet floor.

There were many couples surrounding them, but they created their own little private space as they were wont to do. They breathed each other in like oxygen, equally vital to their existence.

They went back to their table, charmingly flushed from their dancing, just in time for the entree, which of course was the game hen. This time, they were the ones who winked at Blaise when he served them. Wild rice and spinach with fontina cheese were to the side of the hen, which was filled with cornbread stuffing. No need for high-level trading – their plates were identical. But Ian cheerfully spooned over some of his stuffing anyway, knowing how much Quinn adored it, especially in a Sauvignon blanc reduction.

Quinn finished every bit of it, seemingly down to the molecular level, and it left him beaming. Chancellor Vellum picked the perfect time for his speech then, his audience happy and replete. He spoke with a minimum of platitudes but gave genuine plaudits to the honorees.

When the dessert course of lime chiffon pie came out, they got another surprise – a tiny ceramic Skyhawk charm was on each plate. The professors chatted with their colleagues a while longer, then went to their room.

They hung up their tuxes and got ready for bed. Quinn took the berry lube out of his duffel and waggled it at Ian with a questioning look.

"Oh, yeah," Ian said, undaunted by their full day of activities. This time, he got the towel from the bathroom.

"How 'bout a little ride?" Quinn's eyes were sparkling with anticipation. He positioned himself on his back atop the towel in the center of the king-sized bed, and waved his hand at Ian in a tease of the Jedi Mind Trick.

Ian prepared himself with the gel, then straddled Quinn so he could rub some on his husband's erection. He took the cock into himself, angling it to brush his prostate, slowly sitting down on Quinn's thighs. He shivered from head to toe.

Then Quinn started to *move*, just as Ian had last night. Hard, even thrusts raked Ian's prostate every single time as he rode him to heaven. Ian was coming apart on top of him in the most satisfying way, shouting and begging in alternate bursts. Quinn thought of their dinner to try to delay his orgasm, but Ian's clenches kept increasing the tight heat around his cock..

Ian would have tried to delay the inevitable also, but he was already too far gone. His superb gymnastic reflexes were a distant memory as he kept moaning and shaking on top of Quinn.

Quinn rammed into him with a roar, coming in great gushes, while Ian spent himself all over Quinn's chest and stomach.

Ian fell into Quinn's arms, still shaking from the Force of his orgasm.

"Easy, lad, easy," whispered Quinn into messy copper strands. "I've got you, mo chree." (my love)

"And you always will," Ian said almost inaudibly, except to Jedi ears.

Truly something to celebrate, just like the 20th anniversary they had celebrated tonight.


End file.
